


Private Showing

by HaniTrash



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dancer Bucky Barnes, Dom Steve Rogers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Stripper Bucky Barnes, but they're really not fooling each other, slight Identity Porn, soft dom steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: James Barnes is the premier danseur for the New York City Ballet. He's the best, and he knows it. He doesn't have time for anyone but himself as he chases a rapidly fading spotlight, doomed to oncoming obsolescence just because he's on the wrong side of thirty. He also has a secret life outside of ballet, another career that he's trying to build so that he can continue doing the only thing he's ever been good at once the bright lights of Broadway are done with him. When those two worlds unexpectedly collide in the form of one Steve Rogers, wardrobe manager and also his best client, his entire life is turned on end. And suddenly, he's not so sure that's a bad thing - if he can just find the courage to let himself trust someone else.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 279
Kudos: 384
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [Ribbonsflying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonsflying) for the great artwork and for talking out the plot with me to make this such a great story!! I'll post a chapter a day until it's all up. :) 
> 
> Also, this work kinda became a songfic out of necessity while I was writing, so here's a link to the playlist. It's not in order of the songs in the fic, sorry...[Private Showing](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50HNEdyJw8UZjG0sxHP2lQ)

_It tucks you in and kicks you down_

_It chews you up and spits you out_

_It messes with your sanity by twisting all your thoughts around_

_They say it's blind, they say it waits, but every time it seals your fate_

_And now it's got you by the balls, it won't let go until you fall_

_~ “Love Bites (So Do I)” by Halestorm_

  
  
  
  


Steve checked the clock on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time. James was supposed to have been there an hour and a half ago. He'd already gotten everyone else measured and done preliminary fittings. But this goddamned kid acted like the world revolved around him, and Sharon had let him fucking get away with it just because he was their _premier_. Steve didn’t give a shit, he had things to do other than wait around for some arrogant danseur to come to his scheduled fitting appointment. 

“Sharon, darling, I love you, I’m sorry I’m late!” James swept into the room, white button-down shirt halfway open, large brown sunglasses low on his nose, completely unapologetic look on his face. “I brought you Starbucks...oh. Where’s Sharon?” James’s blue eyes landed on Steve over the top of his glasses and his demeanor changed in an instant. His posture stiffened and his face changed from warm to closed. Steve nearly bit his tongue in half to keep a civil tone. 

“Sharon is in the hospital. Which you’d know if you’d _read the message sent to everyone this morning_. She was in a bad car accident last night. Let’s go. Get your clothes off. I don’t have all fucking day to wait for you. You’re lucky I stuck around this long.”

“I will not. Only Sharon does my costumes.”

“Hey, dumbass. _She’s in the hospital._ Get the fuck over yourself and get on the damned dais so I can get your measurements.”

“Just use the ones from last year’s show then.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“I make my living fitting clothes to people’s bodies. Skintight clothes. If you think that my eye misses details you’re quite wrong. I _know_ that you’ve put on muscle since then. The entire tone and sculpt of your thighs and your biceps has changed. I can _not_ use your old measurements. Now, if you’d like to go and explain to Alexander why your costume _won’t_ be ready for the show, by all means, you go ahead and let me know how that works out for you.”

They stared each other down, a silent power struggle, and Steve refused to back down, to let this man walk all over him the way he’d done to Sharon. And sure, he was probably letting his annoyance and anger lead him more than was prudent, but the situation was far from normal. He wanted to get this done and go see Sharon. He arched a single eyebrow and tipped his head expectantly towards the platform in front of the mirrors, where James’s Nutcracker costume waited. 

James clenched his jaw and started angrily removing clothing, until he was standing before Steve in just a fitted tank top and his boxer-briefs. Steve had seen James in various states of undress before, of course, during other fittings and changes between acts, but never just the two of them alone. 

“Good boy,” Steve murmured, and instantly cringed internally at the unprofessional slip. He’d fallen into that commanding headspace without realizing it, driven by his irritation at the entire situation and his loss of control.

The steel blue of James’s eyes deepened to a stormy grey as he sucked in a breath, however, and a faint hint of red dusted his cheeks. Steve filed _that_ little bit of information away in the back of his brain for future unpacking and use—like, in the shower later that night—as suddenly some of the glances he’d noticed James giving him made a bit more sense. He took a deep breath to calm himself and reset his attitude before speaking again.

“Try the jacket first. I don’t think the shoulders will need too much adjusting, it’s more your arms and legs that I’m concerned with.”

Steve made the necessary notations for the jacket while James swapped it out for the pants, which were _much_ tighter on the thighs than they should’ve been.

“What have you been doing? Doubling up on leg day? Why?”

“Just fix them,” James answered curtly.

“Get them off so I can get your measurements unrestricted.”

James huffed, but removed the pants, and Steve was pleased to note that he took care not to damage them. Steve knelt in front of the man and slid his hand up James’s leg, tapping on the inside of his thigh in a silent command for him to spread his legs. 

He complied immediately. Steve bit his tongue to keep himself from smirking when he heard the sharp intake of breath and pretended not to notice the bulge in front of his face growing more pronounced.

As they finished up and James was redressing, Steve tested the waters.

“James?” he asked, letting the slightest bit of authority edge his tone.

“Sir?” 

Steve clenched his jaw against the groan that wanted to escape at the immediate reply, and the way James winced, ducking his head to hide his face as he tied his shoes.

“You can leave the coffee.”

  
  


**********

  
  


Two weeks later, Steve was sitting on the floor of what was now his office since Sharon was out through at least the holiday season, surrounded by piles of fabric and containers of sequins and beads, a needle held between his teeth while he carefully pinned a small flower in place onto a layer of tulle. They had a visiting ballerina for the season, and she didn't fit into their sugar plum fairy costume, which meant he had to remake the entire thing for her. It was something he wouldn't entrust to anyone else, but he didn't mind the extra work. Everyone besides James had only needed minor alterations to their costumes, so Steve had been able to let the rest of the design team handle those while he focused on the two priority pieces. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke his concentration and he nearly stabbed himself instead of the material. 

"James," he said, shock clear in his voice when he looked up. "Sorry, I was in a groove with the tutu for Romanova…" He shot a quick glance at the clock on the wall. "Oh. You're early." 

"Yeah, I, uh...I can come back?" James looked sheepish, almost contrite, as he dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. It was clear that he'd arrived early in some attempt at making amends for their first encounter, and while that pleased Steve immensely, he couldn't let on to that fact.

"No, no, it's okay. Stay. I honestly expected you to be late, so I was trying to make the most of my time. Let me just get this flower pinned in place. Yours is hanging over by the mirrors." He didn't wait for a response and returned his attention to the fabric in his lap. After a few seconds, James moved. He entered the room fully and closed the door behind him, while Steve watched him from the corner of his eyes.

"You know, there's a perfectly good table right over here," James commented as he pulled his shoes off and tucked them under said table. Steve's mind raced with possible answers, including the idea of just bending the man over it and fucking him senseless. 

"I always work on big projects this way," he finally answered truthfully. "Everything is in reach and things don't get covered up or knocked over as easily." He didn't add the fact that this way was easier on his back. That wasn't something he felt like talking about today.

James hummed in consideration as he stripped out of his clothes. Steve noticed an odd-shaped bruise on his left ribs, already faded to an ugly yellow, and narrowed his eyes with a frown. He’d seen plenty of marks on dancers over the years as they fell in practice, but this looked different, too much like other types of marks. He gave James a moment to get the pants on before he rose from the blanket he was sitting on and slipped his feet into his shoes. 

“James,” he said, voice soft. “I know it’s none of my business. We don’t really know each other. But if you need to talk… I’ve helped some friends in bad relationships before. I can connect you to people who can help if you need it.”

James looked at him as if he had fifteen heads. His confusion was immediate and genuine. “Uh, thanks? But I’m single? I haven’t had a partner in over a year.”

Steve’s brain filed away _single_ and _partner_ even as he apologized. “Oh god. I’m sorry. I just… I saw the bruise, and it’s not a normal dance injury, and I assumed… Fuck. I’m sorry. That was totally out of line. It’s just that it reminded me… it looked like...” Steve stopped talking. It wasn’t often that he tripped over his own tongue, but he went stupid on occasion around someone he was more than mildly interested in getting his dick into. And attitude or not, Steve had always been interested in getting his dick into James, from the first time he’d seen the man.

“You assumed…” James’s brows did a complicated dance on his forehead. “Oh. _Oh! This!”_ He smiled as he really looked at Steve, giving him his full attention for the first time. “No harm done. It’s nice to know you’re looking out for the dancers like that. No, this, I tripped over a fucking chair. Had a few too many and got disoriented in my own damned apartment the other night.” He let out a half laugh. “Pretty embarrassing for someone like me to not be able to keep their balance.” 

Steve shrugged. “Eh, we all have our moments.” He reached for the top half of the costume and held it out to him. “Come on, let’s check on this fit so I can lock the seams in. And you can get yourself to rehearsal.”

The fitting itself went rather quickly, which seemed to surprise James. 

“You’re… really good at this,” he commented. 

Steve was standing behind him, and met his eyes in the mirror. “You’d have known that already if you weren’t so full of yourself that you refused to let anyone but Sharon do your pieces.” 

James clenched his jaw, and Steve saw a flash of fire in his eyes before he closed them and took a deep breath. “It’s just really important to me to be the best,” he said softly. “Everything I do here must be flawless.” His eyes opened and found Steve’s once more. “How many danseurs have you seen go through here? I intend to outlast them all. I refuse to be told I’m done simply because I’m on the wrong side of thirty.”

“The next Baryshnikov, is that it?”

“And why not? You saying I’m not good enough?” The spark was back in James’s eye, and _oh_ , but that spirit was enticing. Steve wanted to know what the man would look like squirming and crying and begging as he gave in and let go. Steve studied James for a long moment, watching him get dressed, waiting for him to back down.

“You’re good enough,” he finally acknowledged. “That’s not what I question. I just wonder if you want it for the right reasons.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Steve kept his calm despite James’s heated tone.

“Your last few performances have been clinical. You’re out there dancing for spite, not for love. Your heart isn’t it and it shows. The only one pushing you out is _you,_ James.”

“You don’t know a fucking _thing_ about me.” James stalked angrily to the door, but spun to face Steve before stepping through it. “You’re just a fucking _seamstress_. You don’t know what dancing is like.”

“Okay.” Steve shrugged, made a face of indifference, adopted a placating tone. “Whatever you say, James.”

James growled as he slammed the door behind him, and Steve let out a soft chuckle. 

It felt good to have a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

_You're sick of feeling numb_

_You're not the only one_

_I'll take you by the hand_

_And I'll show you a world that you can understand_

_This life is filled with hurt_

_When happiness doesn't work_

_Trust me and take my hand_

_When the lights go out you will understand_

_~“Pain” by Three Days Grace_

  
  
  


Steve’s words rang through his head, and he nearly dropped Wanda more than once as they ran through some warm-ups. 

“Yasha, what is wrong today? You are not yourself.”

Bucky sighed and fell to the floor, stretching his legs wide and bending forward.

“I don’t even know. I don’t know why I let him get in my head. He’s just a damned _assistant_ , not a dancer, but he made a comment and it’s got me all riled up. Sorry, little one.”

Wanda smiled fondly at the endearment. Though she was in her twenties, she’d been with the company since her family had emigrated when she was a child. She’d been offered positions elsewhere, but New York City held her heart and she stayed. Bucky had taken to her surprisingly hard when he’d joined nearly ten years ago, and viewed her as though she was another one of his little sisters. 

“Whatever he said, you might want to give it some thought, if it made you this upset. And, you really should talk to people more often. He knows more than you might think.”

“Wanda—”

“No. You listen to him. You don’t know everything, or you wouldn’t have said what you did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so smart, you figure it out,” she teased, pressing a kiss to his forehead before rising gracefully to join her friends at the other end of the stage. 

Despite having more questions than answers, the brief talk with Wanda helped to settle him a bit, and he made it through rehearsal without any mishaps. Of course, because the universe appeared to have it out for him, he’d left his bag in the fucking wardrobe room and needed to go deal with Steve, the unreasonably attractive designer who got under his skin with a word and made him hot with just a look, before he could leave the building.

He had very conflicting thoughts about the man. Most of which ended up with him thinking about how it’d feel to have Steve inside him.

Bucky couldn’t afford to be distracted now, though. He was trying to hold onto the anger he’d felt earlier to get him through grabbing his bag and then getting the fuck out of Dodge. Besides, he had more training in an hour for his other gig. Maybe it was because he was so focused that it caught his attention, but when he saw a door ajar and heard strains of classical music coming from one of the smaller practice rooms, he paused and looked in. The rooms in this hallway were almost never used anymore, the lighting sucked and the mirrors were dim.

The sight before him brought him up short. 

Steve was in the middle of the room, bending and swaying, long limbs extending, spinning, leaping. There was a measured slowness to his motions, not the perfect fluidity that one needed to be on stage, but the man clearly was skilled. 

It was when Steve came out of a spin and stopped, his bare back to Bucky, that he saw the reason for it. 

A line of scar tissue ran up Steve’s spine from his waist to the base of his neck.

Bucky’s eyes fell on Steve’s face in the mirror, and the wince of pain he saw there. Steve dropped his arms with a heavy exhale and bent forward, one hand rubbing at his lower back.

“Did you need something, James?”

Bucky startled, unaware that Steve had seen him. “I, uh… I forgot my bag earlier.”

“Door’s unlocked.”

“Okay, I—uh, thank you. Sorry to, um, interrupt.”

“You didn’t.” 

“Oh… okay.”

Steve straightened with a slight grimace. “Was there something else?”

Bucky felt his face flush as he realized he’d been caught staring. “No, thanks, that’s it,” he mumbled as he hurried off down the hall. 

_What the hell happened to him?_

  
  


*****

  
  


Bucky squeezed his legs tight as he fell back. He held the position, arms spread wide as he spun slowly, back perpendicular to the floor. After two revolutions he dropped his arms to grab the pole below his head and carefully untangled his legs, lowering them to the floor and pivoting as he stood. 

“Excellent, Bucky!” Gwen exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air for emphasis. _James_ didn’t exist here—he didn’t _need_ to. Here, he was free to be himself, be Bucky. “Christ you make that look so easy. I can’t believe that was only the second time you’ve done that.”

Bucky shrugged, but smiled and warmed at the compliment. “Between rehearsal this morning and this now, my legs feel like jelly, not gonna lie. I thought I was gonna lose it. Glad I’m not working tonight, too.” 

“Make sure you’re eating. Don’t kill yourself just because it’s the holiday season. I know how demanding your day job is this time of year.”

Bucky nodded as he rubbed down his legs. Gwen was one of only a few people who knew about his ballet dancing _and_ the pole work and strip club dancing. She only ever mentioned it in vague comments, which he appreciated, as he sought to keep the two parts of his life separate. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of the pole work. He quite enjoyed it, in fact. And dancing at the strip club was _fun_ , rewarding in a way that ballet could never be. Sure, audiences appreciated the performances, but it wasn’t just him. It was every other dancer on stage, and the costumes, and the music, and the sets… ballet was a _production_. Stripping was a _show_ , the feedback immediate, the reactions invigorating and fulfilling on a more personal level than someone’s enjoyment of _Swan Lake_. But it carried a certain stigma that he didn’t feel like dealing with before he was done with ballet. 

“Two weeks until open, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen. Take it easy on yourself. I know you’re going to be working both jobs. Cut back to just once a week here, okay?” 

Bucky blew out a heavy breath. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am.”

He chuckled as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

“Oh I highly doubt that. But please think about it, okay?”

Bucky nodded. “I will.” Above all else, he did take care of his body. After all, it wasn’t like he was good at anything besides dancing. He needed to keep his body healthy and making him money for as long as he possibly could.

  
  


*****

  
  


_J: hey what’s Steve’s last name?_

_W: why?_

_J: I can’t remember it. Humor me._

_W: *eyeroll* you’re going to google him, aren’t you?_

_J: just tell me_

_W: omg. You ARE going to_

_J: Wanda_

_W: James_

_J: tell me!!!_

_W: ...you could just talk to the man_

_J: pretty sure he hates me. This is easier_

_W: I swear I don’t know why we’re friends. Fine._

  
  


Wanda gave him the information and he typed it into the search bar on his laptop. Bucky wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but as he scanned the results and read article after article, it certainly wasn’t the sight of Steve in a hospital bed with Tony Stark standing next to him. He’d searched for “Steve Rogers + San Diego ballet” on Wanda’s instructions and had gotten several articles about an accident almost ten years ago. Reading the details brought back a vague recollection of headlines, but seeing as Steve had been living in California and Bucky had been in New York, he hadn’t paid it much mind. 

Steve had been dancing for San Diego Ballet when he’d been hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street. That driver had been billionaire tech genius Tony Stark, so where another person would have never walked again, Steve had received state-of-the-art medical care. Tony, Bucky noted, received yet another court-ordered rehab. But apparently nearly killing a man had been the thing to make sobriety stick, so at least that one positive had come of the situation. 

Bucky sat back and took a sip of the forgotten wine in his hand. Steve’s comments about Bucky’s _heart_ definitely made much more sense now, in light of this context. Steve had just been named as the head danseur for SDB, and to have had that ripped from him in such a way… the fact that the man still worked in the business, had found a new way to be part of the community, showed just how much he loved the ballet and dance.

As he adjusted the ice pack on his thigh, Bucky thought maybe Steve had had a point, after all. 

  
  


°○°○°○°○°○°○°

  
  


_“Take it, take it, take it!”_ Steve said in a rush, and Sam caught the bar just as Steve’s arms gave out. It wasn’t even that heavy, he lifted for muscle endurance more than bulk, but it still gave him a feeling of failure that he hadn’t been able to complete the set. 

“Damn, man. How many reps was that? You’re a beast.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling weakly at Sam’s attempt to cheer him on. He winced as he sat up, groaning at the pain skittering down his spine.

“Heat? Ice? Or you want me to rub it?”

“Massage, please.” He fell forward to lay on his stomach on the bench, defeated. Sure, he could ice it… if he wanted to be cold for the next few hours when all the metal holding his spine together and wires connecting his nerves got cold. Some winters he still questioned his choice to move to New York and its hideous snowstorms when he’d been perfectly warm and comfy in California. 

“What’s gotten into you today? You haven’t pushed yourself this hard in years.”

Steve grunted and buried his face into the bench, heedless of the fact that he was facing the wrong direction and was mashed against the foot rest. Sam was a good friend, observant, and didn’t take Steve’s bullshit. If he didn’t answer, he wouldn’t let Steve hide. “James fucking Barnes,” he finally ground out, as if that was answer enough. Sam’s hands faltered a heartbeat on his shoulders before he resumed the massage with a knowing chuckle. “What?” Steve demanded.

“Nothing. Just gotta add some popcorn to my grocery shopping. This is gonna be fun, is all.”

“Fuck you,” Steve shot back, but there was no heat to it. 

“Listen, you’ve been balls out with work since Sharon got hurt. Take a night off. Come to Triskelion tomorrow. We’ve got a couple new dancers since the last time you graced us with your presence.”

“Sam, you know that’s not really my thing.” Steve didn’t have any strong opinions about people who worked in strip clubs. He figured everyone deserved a chance to work and be happy, he saw nothing wrong with it. He just also never really had stripping do anything for him. It was like the exact opposite of what turned him on—he had _no_ control of the situation, was expected to sit there and just _watch_ , not participate, not tell the dancer what to do. 

“Humor me. Please? Fuck, I’ll put you on the VIP list, too, okay? You’ll get yourself a little booth so you’re on the comfy couches and not the hard chairs, have some space between you and the other people…” 

“Fine. If only to shut you up about it.”

  
  


******

Steve stepped out of the Uber and hugged his jacket tight against the brisk late November wind. He couldn’t believe he’d let Sam talk him into this. After giving his name to the person at the door, he was ushered in while the few people in line looked on, a mixture of interest and jealousy on their faces. At the very least, Steve had to admit that this was the fanciest strip club he’d ever seen or been to. His coat and drink order were taken as soon as he was inside, and he’d barely sat down on the plush leather seat before the tumbler of whisky was set before him. The interior was dim, of course, but not in a creepy way. There were no cheap plastic cups, no over-abundance of glitter and neon, but tables with actual cloth coverings, a full service kitchen that offered more than bar fare, and top-shelf liquor.

On stage, a group of men and women both were dancing. The one thing that Steve liked the most about Triskelion was that it catered to everyone of any orientation, and it was reflected in all the little things, like pronoun pins for staff and stickers for the guests, to the obvious things like the dancers. He was pretty firm in his homosexuality, but appreciated the effort to be inclusive to _all_ members of the community.

“Hey, perfect timing!” Sam slid into the booth with a toothy grin. “Our newest guy is up to dance after this group. I think you’ll like him. He quickly became a fan favorite.”

Steve rolled his eyes, because that usually meant someone who went all-out, was over-the-top and tried to sell the routine too hard. 

“Just trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“Brock,” Steve answered immediately.

“Okay, _besides_ that one.”

Steve laughed as he made himself comfortable. “Go. Do your thing. I promise I’m not going to disappear in thirty seconds.” He made a shooing motion with his hand to send Sam away. He loved his best friend, but not enough to want the man sitting next to him while he watched a hot guy dancing on stage. It had nothing to do with Sam and everything to do with Steve’s control issues. He would only watch something like this with a partner, which Sam absolutely was not and never would be. 

The group onstage finished their set and when the applause died down, the lights went dark and _opera music_ , of all things, began playing. The crowd clearly knew what that meant because they grew loud and excited.

“Okay my dears, you know what time it is!” The announcer’s soft British accent purred out of the speakers, and Steve could hear the smile in her voice. “Everyone show some love for our newest darling, _Phantom!”_ The music cut off and guests cheered as a spotlight hit the stage, landing on a man standing before a pole. One arm was raised above his head and grasped the metal. He was dressed in all black, loose white frills spilling from his wrists and neckline, and an honest-to-God _Phantom of the Opera-_ styled mask over his face. Steve rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might fall out.

A new song started, one far more appropriate for stripping, and the man’s hips began to sway.

_*Well, I had me a boy, turned him into a man_

_I showed him all the things that he didn't understand_

_Whoa, and then I let him go*_

His body twisted and he grabbed the pole with both hands, wrapping himself around it and locking his legs onto it above his hands, body contorted so that his back was against the pole as he hung upside down. Steve’s mouth dropped at the suddenness and fluidity of the move as Phantom sat upright and grabbed on with one arm, letting his legs fall free, spread wide as the pole spun and he slid down until he came to rest against the floor in a complete split. 

Steve felt himself leaning forward, eyeing the man more critically, watching as his body moved in ways that only came from _years_ of practice. Phantom crawled to the front of the stage.

_*I had a summer lover down in New Orleans_

_Kept him warm in the winter, left him frozen in the spring_

_My, my, how the seasons go by*_

He pulled open the top of the ridiculous outfit on the beat with _frozen_ , gyrating on his knees and sliding a hand down the front of his body before rising effortlessly to his toes in a move that Steve recognized all too well. The outfit came fully off and Steve sucked in a sharp breath. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a card, holding his arm slightly up and out. Sam must have been watching him like a hawk because he was there in an instant.

“I want a dance,” Steve said, before he’d even stopped moving.

“Really? Here, or…?”

“Here.”

“He’s expensive. Selective. Doesn’t always accept the requests.”

Steve didn’t take his eyes from the stage. He _knew_ that body. “I don’t care. Whatever price he asks.” 

Despite being busy having bills tucked into the line of his g-string, Phantom appeared to take notice of the VIP section. Any good dancer would, it was smart. The VIPs were the ones more likely to pay for extended lap dances and request private rooms. Phantom clocked in on Steve and Sam, and a smirk tipped the corner of his mouth as he lifted a hand to his mouth and blew Steve a kiss.

Sam _laughed_. “Okay then, looks like you’re getting your dance.”


	3. Chapter 3

_I can’t wait forever_

_Cause I don’t have the time left to spend_

_Wishing I was someone better_

_Wishing I could start all over again_

_~ “Trouble’s Coming” by The Royal Blood_

  
  


Bucky nearly puked when he realized what he'd done. The adrenaline thrill of having that man—that fucking gorgeous man, who featured in his dreams more often than not lately, who exuded the kind of gentle Dom energy that made Bucky’s knees weak, at his mercy, unable to touch, unable to order, unable to command… He hadn’t really thought about it at the time, just rode the endorphin wave and climbed up onto Steve’s lap. And sure, he might have been a _bit_ more close than strictly called for, but his brain hadn’t considered that, conveniently forgetting about _“If you think my eye misses details, you’re wrong.”_

Of course Bucky had recognized Steve the moment he’d seen him in the VIP section. But his stupid brain hadn’t considered that Steve might have recognized him, mask or no mask. And then he’d gone and rubbed all over the man’s body, _right up in his face_ , practically _begging_ to be recognized. 

But fucking hell had it been fun.

He stood, arms braced over the sink, trying to calm his nerves now that his brain had come back online. 

“Bucky? You okay, sweetie?” 

Bucky lifted his head to see Gwen in the mirror, concern lining her face. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Got a little woozy. Didn’t eat enough today, I think. That’s all.” 

“I’ve got a bar in my bag, hang on.”

Bucky smiled and let her give him the protein bar, and sat in the chair she directed him to in the dressing room.

It was easier, with someone else there, to pretend that he didn’t just potentially sink his entire career. After all, he knew how to plaster on a fake smile and act like everything was coming up rainbows and roses. 

***

Two days later, Bucky had his final fitting and dress rehearsal for the opening of _The Nutcracker_. He took a deep breath before he stepped into the fitting room. Natalia was there, in her sugarplum fairy tutu, and despite everything else going on in his head, Bucky could take a moment to appreciate the final result of all Steve’s labor—her costume was outstanding, and looked better than the one Wanda had worn last year. He wouldn’t be dancing with her, which was a shame, but she was there for several months and they’re scheduled to be partnered together in the next production. She smiled and nodded at Steve and greeted James as she passed him on her way out and then he was left alone with Steve. 

Bucky looked warily towards Steve, who was barely paying him any attention.

“James. You’re right on time. Good,” he said, waving his hand in the general direction of the changing screen. “You’re all set over there.” 

He changed quickly, wanting to get this over with so he could deal with the other issue at hand. 

“How does it feel?” Steve asked, running his hands along Bucky’s shoulders. 

_Stifling,_ he wanted to answer, but instead he forced a smile to his face and met Steve’s eyes in the mirror. “Really good.”

“Mmm,” Steve grunted. “Looks really good.” His eyes blatantly raked over Bucky’s body. “Show me,” he said, stepping back. 

Bucky blushed as he moved through some stretches and bends, testing the fabric against the moves he'd need to make in the show.

“Everything feels good through here?” Steve asked, running a hand along Bucky’s outer thigh. The heat of his palm was searing, even through the fabric. “Not too tight in here?” Steve’s fingers teased along the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. 

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath and met Steve’s eyes. Their bodies were close, close enough for the woodsy scent of his cologne or some other product to fill Bucky’s nose the same way it had just a few short nights ago.

“No, I’m good,” he managed, and his voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears.

“Yeah, you are,” Steve answered, low and growly, with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Bucky _whimpered,_ couldn't stop it in time, and Steve chuckled as he stepped away. 

It hardly seemed possible, but Steve said _nothing_ about the other night. Bucky stood, frozen in place, and stared at the enigmatic man. 

“Was there something else?” Steve asked, one eyebrow cocked in the unfairly hot way that he had. 

“No, I guess not.” Bucky stepped down, swallowed hard, kept half an eye on Steve.

“Good. I’ll see you on the stage, then.”

Bucky could have _sworn_ that Steve winked at him as he turned away, but his fear kept him from acknowledging it. The way Steve had talked, had looked at him, hell, the way he’d _touched_ Bucky had all screamed a level of familiarity that hadn’t existed between them before the club. But for whatever reason, he wasn’t saying anything. It’s not like it would affect Steve’s career, so was he just… _pretending that it didn’t happen?_ Bucky had certainly given the man no reason to protect him.

Unless he really hadn’t recognized Bucky. But that just led to another whole set of questions that made Bucky’s head hurt. 

In the end, it all came down to one important conclusion. He’d gotten away with it.

*****

> _New York Times, January 3rd_
> 
> _Holiday Arts Season Wrap-Up_
> 
> _[....]_
> 
> _As always, the New York City Ballet held its annual Nutcracker production. This year saw several fantastic performances from the younger members, and a fabulous guest appearance by Natalia Romanova as the Sugar Plum Fairy. But by far, the shining star of the season was Peter Parker, playing the Cavalier in partner to Romanova. Parker was brilliant, a stark contrast to the bleak and technical performances given by James Barnes, who reprised his role as the Nutcracker for the fourth season in a row. Barnes, who is nearing his thirty-third birthday, has been increasingly disappointing of late in his performances, while the twenty-four year old Parker has only shone the brighter for it…_

Bucky angrily hit the back button on his phone and locked it, shoving it into his pocket. “Fuck them,” he muttered to himself as he shifted the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and followed the crowd out of the subway car. He had a new routine to unveil tonight at Triskelion and refused to let the stupid, stuffy old fucks at the NYT ruin his night. 

He wished he knew if Steve was going to be there or not, though. He’d love another chance to dance for him. After opening night, there had been plenty more suggestive looks and veiled comments, but it never seemed like the right time for Bucky to attempt to initiate something more, to find out, and Steve was clearly holding back for some reason. With a sigh, he pushed thoughts of Steve from his head as he ducked into the back rooms to get himself ready.

*****

Bucky was running out of ideas for how to get Steve to come back to the club. The more he thought about it, the more he was _sure_ that Steve knew that he was _Phantom._ He returned all of Bucky’s embarrassingly awkward flirting—and Bucky _hated_ how tongue-tied and flustered he got around the man at times—when he found excuses to go to wardrobe, but that was it. No attempts at trying for something more. No return trips to the club. 

Clearly, it was time to up the ante.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the open door, searching the room for Steve, who he spied putting away some fabric on the shelving at the far end. 

“James! Hi, what’s up?” Steve was clearly confused to see him, though also clearly pleased. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall before returning to study Bucky. He wasn’t sure if it was a conscious effort on the man’s part or not, but it wasn’t the first time Bucky had noticed the way Steve really _watched_ him, paid attention and _listened_ when he talked without making him feel scrutinized. It always made Bucky the tiniest bit floaty, stupidly happy, as he soaked up the attention. He just knew, somehow, that this was a man he could relax around and—hell, he knew he’d be the _right_ kind of Dom, would be truly attentive and caring, and not let him drop, not assume he was a power bottom, and the fervor with which Bucky wanted that was frankly terrifying. 

“I uh, was wondering if you could help me with something? I’m having some trouble with a costume…”

“What do you mean? We just did a fitting yesterday.”

“No, it’s, uh, for something else. It’s… a side-project with some friends. If you don’t have time, it’s alright. I don’t know if you had plans or anything…” Bucky pointedly glanced at the clock on the wall, trying to make it clear that he was well aware of how late in the day it was and that Steve should, in theory, be leaving soon. “I tried, but I can’t get it right. You’re so good at this stuff, and I was hoping you could help me? Please?” The last came out soft and pleading as he looked up at Steve through his lashes, eyebrows raised hopefully as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

The combination had the desired effect and he saw Steve’s considerably-sized chest pause for a moment as he held his breath. His throat worked as he swallowed, jaw clenching briefly before he spoke. 

“I—thank you, James. Yeah, I can—I can make some time for you. Go ahead and get changed so I can see what we’re working with here.” 

“Thank you! You’re the best. I knew you’d help. Oh! Um, could we… can we lock the door though? It’s, um… I mean, it’s a secret project? And a bit, uh… _different_ from my usual dance costumes.” Bucky drew upon every bit of acting skill he had, made himself blush as he looked behind him to the door, dropped his voice like he was worried. Steve’s nostrils flared in response, and Bucky knew he had him hooked. 

“Of course,” he answered, deep voice rough as he appeared to mentally shake himself and headed for the work table and its drawers full of pins and threads and whatnot. “Whatever you need, sw— _James.”_

Bucky fought to hide his smirk while he turned to lock the door. He could have easily have had Gwen help him; she was highly skilled in costuming and wardrobe alterations. But having Steve’s help was much more fun, in addition to serving a higher purpose. As he passed Steve, he noted the way the taller man was taking long, deep, even breaths, with his eyes closed as he braced himself against the table. He changed his clothes quickly, wanting to keep Steve as off-kilter as he could. Bucky was aware enough to know he was playing with fire, but he wasn’t sure he cared enough to stop. If he was even remotely considering fucking the man—and, honestly, it was a very _active_ consideration—he needed a better gauge on him, needed to know how far he could push, what his self-control—and his _need to control_ —was like.

_“Fuck,”_ Steve exhaled with an audible groan when Bucky stepped out from behind the screen. The blush that painted Bucky’s cheeks didn’t need to be forced—but it was pleasure, not embarrassment, that sent heat running through his body and had him ducking his head. Steve cleared his throat. 

“Sorry,” he said. “You said different, but I wasn’t exactly expecting… this. Okay. So, what’s your issue here?” 

Bucky directed Steve’s attention to the straps running under his arms, and once more his nose was filled with the sharp, earthy scent of Steve as he stepped in close and his body heat surrounded him. He studied Steve’s face as he worked, the way his brow furrowed and how he pulled his lips between his teeth when he was focused on a tricky spot, how his frankly obscenely long lashes dusted his cheeks when he blinked. 

“I can see why you needed some help. That’s not an easy spot to try to adjust on your own. And these harnesses aren’t exactly meant to be worn for dancing. But of course, you know that already, don’t you?”

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, whose body was still only inches from his own. Hot air feathered his cheeks as Steve breathed through slightly parted lips. Bucky didn’t fight the small smile that came unbidden to his lips.

“I do, Sir,” he replied, his own voice as soft and breathless as Steve’s. 

Steve’s eyelids fluttered and he turned away, stepped back to make space between them. 

“You can change back. Give me about twenty minutes to do the sewing.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _note: the song that Bucky and Gwen are dancing to is "Dirty Work" by Halestorm_

_American boys_

_Wanna slay 'em, wanna lay 'em_

_Wanna play 'em_

_They're my favorite toys_

_~ “American Boys” by Halestorm_

Steve lasted exactly two months before he broke down and called Sam. He’d been doing okay, thought that he and James were making some headway in the slowly (very, very slowly) growing friendship between them, and had been content to wait the man out. 

But then James just _had_ to show up with that fucking outfit and ask for help. _And_ called him ‘Sir’ while looking him dead in the eyes, a smirk on those damned full lips as he did.

Steve had spent the better part of the last week on a low simmer, half-aroused and horny, distracted by picturing James in all that leather and those buckles and wondering what the dance routine looked like.

He also really wanted to know what he’d look like on his knees in front of Steve, with a mouth full of cock.

_"Hey man, what's up?"_

"Is he dancing tonight?"

_"Hi Sam, how are you Sam? Can I ask you a question, Sam?"_ Sam mocked.

Steve sighed. "Sam."

_"Steve."_

Steve couldn't help his small smile, despite the fact that he was rubbing his temple as he spoke. "I… yeah. I know. It's not like me. But I want to see him again. Will you please just tell me if _Phantom_ is going to be there tonight?" 

_"You're paying for your own VIP booth though. I can't give them to you free every time."_

"Fine. What time?"

_"Tomorrow. He's not on tonight. His shift starts at eight."_

"I'll be there."

Steve hung up and turned around, only to find James standing in the doorway, a curious expression on his face. It was clear that he'd overheard at least part of the conversation. Steve knew there was no question that James had recognized him that first night. But if he wasn't going to acknowledge what had happened, then Steve would let the man have his secrets. He could understand why James would want that part of his life to remain hidden. 

"Need something, James?" he asked, raising a brow slightly, holding eye contact. James blushed, faint but unmistakable. “Nothing’s changed since you were here two days ago.”

"I uh… I thought I'd see if you needed anything. I mean… I'm going to grab lunch. I know you're busy with the new outfits…" 

Steve felt the surprise hit his face, and he closed his mouth as he blinked rapidly. James wasn’t wrong—Steve was busy as hell. Their next ballet was an entirely brand new story, and they were creating every costume and tutu from scratch. Alexander was putting his faith and trust into Steve. He hadn’t hired a replacement design head when Sharon’s injuries had proven to be more extensive than they’d known at first, but instead had given Steve the position.

It was huge, both in terms of production and in terms of what it meant for Steve’s career.

It also was rumored to potentially be James’ last leading role. After the _Nutcracker_ drama, he’d barely gotten the part, and everyone knew it. 

In response, James had been spending extra time at the studio, learning the choreography, practicing endlessly, working with Natalia, and meeting constantly with Steve as he obsessed over his costume and driving Steve nuts with his half-flirting and veiled innuendos. Personal relationships weren’t explicitly forbidden between employees at the studio, but James wasn’t just one of their regular dancers. Steve would not be the one to initiate that change between them. 

He was still human, however. 

He could make it clear to James that he was interested and wait to see what he’d do. 

But that was _tomorrow._ Right now, James was standing in front of him, waiting for an answer. It was the first time he’d offered to go and get something specific for Steve, beyond bringing him coffee unbidden at least a couple times a week. 

“That would be really nice, thank you. Very thoughtful of you.”

James blushed, and Steve didn’t hide his grin. 

  
  


***

The next night, Steve arrived at quarter to eight, not wanting to chance missing any of James’ dances. He started out with a solo dance and then did a few lap dances, eyes conspicuously _not_ straying to Steve. He’d been gone for a bit, not wandering the floor, when the announcer started speaking.

“Darlings, we have a special treat for you tonight! Our beloved _Phantom_ has teamed up with the amazing Gwen to bring you one smoking hot performance sure to please everyone. Let’s show them some love, shall we?”

The crowd started cheering as the music started. Gwen, the woman that Steve had seen doing a belly dance routine on his last visit, sashayed out onto stage in a pair of thigh-high black stiletto boots, and a black top and bottom combination trimmed in hot pink. Behind her, James followed on all fours, being led by a leash attached to a collar around his neck.

“Fuck me,” Steve cursed aloud, scrubbing a hand over his face. Below the collar, James wore the same leather harness that he’d had Steve help him with, and a pair of leather pants that appeared just as painted on as they had the week before. 

_*Get on your knees and let the games begin_

_Bow to your queen and I will crown your head*_

James sat back on his heels and she tipped his head back with one finger under his chin. Gwen bent down, looking as if she was going to kiss him, and then at the last moment shoved him away with her hand splayed over his face. James continued to crawl after her, body rolling suggestively with the beat of the song.

_*I need someone young, willing and able_

_You need someone old enough to know better_

_I want you to_

_Do my dirty work, do my dirty work...*_

Gwen spun and grabbed him by the back of the head. She brought her hips forward and pressed his face against her groin, gyrating in place, and after a moment James was pulled to his feet. The two danced around the stage, coming together randomly and mimicking having sex, ending with James on his back and Gwen riding him. 

Steve sat frozen in place, transfixed by the sight of James being led around the stage by the leash to collect the money being held out by frenzied patrons. When they reached the end, James lifted his head and unerringly looked directly at Steve with a grin on his face. 

  
  
  


°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°

  
  
  


“You’re just a sweet thing, really, aren’t you James?”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his coffee, as Steve gave him a knowing grin. It was the third time this week that he’d brought Steve coffee, even though he had absolutely no reason to be in the fitting room. It had become almost a ritual, though, that any time Steve came to Triskelion, Bucky brought him coffee the next morning—even if he’d already done it twice on his own this week. Technically, _Steve_ was the one paying for all these visits, even if he didn’t know it. The first dance had been one thing, but after that, Bucky had felt weird about taking Steve’s money. Especially when the man _kept coming back_ so frequently without trying for more between them. So he kept buying Steve coffee and lunch whenever he could. The way Steve smiled when he did, the little barely contained half-laugh each time Bucky arrived, said that the man knew exactly what was going on. No matter what he said or how he played it off.

“I wish you’d let me make it up to you for all these coffees, though.”

Bucky swallowed as he felt the usual butterflies in his stomach at the way Steve’s eyes raked over his body, like the man wanted to _devour_ him.

“Just make me look good on stage,” he answered.

“Oh, that’s easy, _sweet thing._ You do that all on your own. All you need is a spotlight and some music.”

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, eyes closed. 

“Yes?”

“I… Would you… like to—” Before Bucky could finally work up the courage to ask Steve to meet outside of work, Natalia and Wanda could be heard making their way down the hall. Steve looked at him, waiting for him to finish, but he chickened out as the women came into view. “Nevermind,” he mumbled, and ducked his head as he headed for his dressing room. 

°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°

  
  
  


_*Come on, make a move_

_Yeah, yeah_

_Do what you do_

_American boys_

_Gotta love 'em, gotta need 'em, gotta want 'em_

_They're my drug of choice*_

Phantom’s eyes kept lingering in Steve’s direction, and _fuck_ but it was affecting Steve. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly how, but the tone was different tonight. James finished his set and disappeared from the stage, only to reappear a few moments later in front of Steve.

“How you doing tonight, honey? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It had only been two weeks since Steve’s last visit to the club, but he’d been there more in the last two months than he had in the four years he’d been friends with Sam. A two-week break was actually noticeable at this point. Of course, they’d both been busy with the ballet season, and James had continued to bring him coffees and food, but beyond lingering glances and loaded conversations they hadn’t really addressed what was growing between them.

“Wouldn’t expect you to remember me, I’m sure you get plenty of men vying for your attention.”

“Oh, sure. But they don’t all look and tip like you. Even when they don’t come here on a regular basis.”

Steve laughed and settled down into the couch, spreading his legs and resting his arms across the top. _Assuming the position._ “Well then, why don’t you come on over here and show me how much you missed me?” he asked, dropping his voice and slipping a bit of commanding edge to it. He watched as James faltered, breath leaving him in a rush before he recovered, cocky smile returning to his full lips, and he sauntered over to stand directly between Steve’s legs.

“Your wish is my command, honey,” James purred, and dropped gracefully into a squat. He slid his hands up Steve’s thighs, stopping just short of his crotch and the erection that was clearly on display. Tonight’s mask was a thin Zorro-styled strip of fabric, and one perfect eyebrow arched in silent question as James peered up at him. “For me?” he asked with a smirk.

“Any time you want it, sweetheart.” 

James laughed as he slithered his way up, taut muscles on display only inches from Steve’s face as he rocked and swayed his hips to the sensual beat. Steve clenched his jaw to keep himself from leaning in and dragging his tongue along the chiseled line leading to James’s bellybutton. 

“Careful, honey. I may take you up on that some day.” He spun around, tight, perfect globes now eye-level. Steve wanted to bite them but opted for a laugh instead, playing along with the charade that they’re maintaining. 

“You got hurt?” he asked, repeating the words he’d spoken that morning when he’d gotten a similarly close-up view of the fading bruise on James’s side. Except then, he’d been able to trail fingers along the edge of it, watch the way James’s pupils had dilated in response.

“Nothing major. Just a practice injury,” James replied, voice thick, though the slight hitch in his shimmy gave him away.

Steve hummed, the same as he did that morning. “Well. It looks like it hurt. Hope you had someone to help it feel better.” He tipped his head to the side, to see James’s face, and was rewarded with the same sight of teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyes closed, and deep breath. It was at that point that morning that he’d almost kissed James, consequences be damned.

“I managed okay on my own. Thanks.” The shake in his voice only encouraged Steve more.

“Well. If you ever want to _not_ be on your own. Sam has my number.”

James gasped, throwing a surprised glance over his shoulder, and Steve doubled down. “I mean, I can leave it for you right now. If you wanted. But how could you know I’m safe? Just because you’ve danced for me here a handful of times doesn’t mean you know me. So if I tell you that I’m friends with Sam, you can ask him about me. Decide for yourself if you want to make that move or not. Ball’s in your court, sweetheart. Not mine. You’re the professional. Not me. I’m not the one with something to lose.”

James stopped moving, stared down at him, breathing heavily, eyes wide. 

“Your move, sweet thing.”

James answered him by turning and walking away. It wasn’t completely unexpected, after all. He’d essentially just called James’s bluff. He’d never called him _sweet thing_ outside of the fitting room, always been careful to go along with the ruse, play the game that they played at the club. But he’d just put everything squarely in James’s lap and made his wishes abundantly clear. Steve took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, picking up his forgotten glass of whisky and taking a sip as he absently watched the stage.

When he saw Sam headed his way ten minutes later, he already knew what the man wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

_It's inevitable, but I can't seem to live without_

_The destruction of your love_

_~ “Under the Influence” by Elle King_

  
  
  


Steve watched Sam make his way over to his booth. He knew he was about to spend his entire bonus for a private show, and a tiny part of his brain screamed at him for it, but goddamn it, he didn’t care. Part of it was the thrill alone. _Phantom_ wasn’t cheap; in fact, he was the most expensive dancer on the list, outrageously expensive, and Steve could count on one finger the number of times he’d seen James accept the request in the dozens of nights he’d come to watch the man dance.

The larger part of it was finally forcing things to a head between himself and James. He was tired of playing cat-and-mouse, he wanted his hands on the other man, wanted to know what he felt and tasted like. 

“Sam,” Steve said cooly over the top of his glass.

“Steve,” Sam returned, and sat, placing a second glass on the table before Steve.

“How’s it going tonight?”

“You two are giving me a goddamned headache, you know that?”

Steve laughed softly. “Your own fault, if I recall correctly. You invited me here that first night.”

Sam heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I thought it would be fun to watch. Now it’s embarrassing.” He leaned forward, elbows rested on his knees, and scanned the crowd even as they talked. Always on point, always working. Sam’s eagle-sharp eyes never missed a thing. 

“I assume you have something to tell me?” he asked, his own gaze seeking out James across the room as he danced at a nearby table.

“He says if you ask for it, he’ll accept.”

As if on cue, James looked up and their eyes locked. Steve nodded, eyes never leaving James as he spoke.

“I’m asking for it.” 

James sucked in a deep breath and gnawed on his bottom lip, nodding nearly imperceptibly before returning his attention to the man he was dancing for. 

“About goddamned time,” Sam muttered as he stood. “Someone will come get you soon.”

A short time later, Steve was shown to a private room, where he’s seated on a plush couch but tried not to wonder how thoroughly the material was or wasn’t cleaned.

James entered the room only a few seconds later, hard body glistening with the sheen of oil used to catch the lights on stage. He paused when he saw Steve waiting for him. Steve held his breath. Lap dances at the table were one thing. But a personal session in one of the private lounges was completely different. The corner of James's mouth quirked up into a smirk, and behind the mask Steve can see amusement in James's eyes. 

Those same eyes flicked up to the camera in the corner of the room as he walked over to a small screen mounted on the wall and began tapping buttons. 

"You mind if I pick a song from my personal collection instead of the house list?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

He was wearing only the scant g-string he'd ended his set with and Steve shifted, eased his legs apart to get more comfortable as he eyed the single new addition to the outfit: a plug. 

"Whatever you prefer," Steve answered, not bothering to attempt to disguise his voice in the quiet of the room. Out in the main room, one can use plausible deniability of the background noise from patrons and the loud music to say that they hadn’t recognized each others’ voices. But there was no point to that charade here. 

"It's more suited to the occasion," James answered with a wink as he sauntered over and climbed onto Steve's lap. Steve dutifully kept his arms spread across the top of the couch, clutching the cushion, so he wouldn't be tempted to grab onto James as his body swayed to the beat, the song a soft bluesy rock with a sensual cadence and suggestive lyrics. Steve recognized the singer’s distinctive voice, the raspy, subtle drawl of the same woman who sang one of the songs James danced to often. 

James rolled his hips, ground over Steve's burgeoning erection as he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck. "You can touch me, in here." He slid his hands down Steve's arms and laced their fingers together as he pressed in closer.

_*It's dangerous, the things we do_

_Under the influence, I got no defense*_

James looked down at him, their faces only inches apart, as he guided their joined hands to his ass. He let go of Steve's hands and threaded his through Steve's hair as Steve dug his fingers into the firm flesh beneath his palms. "In fact," James added, leaning in to whisper into Steve's ear, "you can touch me _anywhere._ I turned the cameras off. I trust you. _Steve_."

Steve's breath caught.

_*Temptation, creeping up on me_

_Gets under my skin, won't let me be*_

"James," he exhaled, and claimed James's lips in a brutal kiss.

James moaned as Steve licked into his mouth. He slid one hand from James’s ass to the back of his head and gripped the short hair tight.

“Steve!” James gasped when he dropped his mouth to nip at the soft skin of his neck. “Fuck, Steve, please!” 

“Please what?” 

“Please, _Sir,”_ Bucky breathed, and a low growl of approval rumbled through Steve. 

“Just like that, hmm?” James whined as Steve’s teeth worried a rosy pink nipple. “Is that what _this_ is all about, then?” Steve asked, pressing against the base of the plug. 

“I want—” James’s motions lost all sense of seduction, of grace, as he ground shamelessly against Steve, seeking friction on his cock as Steve toyed with the warm metal in his ass.

_*Begging for another beautiful sin_

_It's dangerous, the things we do*_

“Fuck it, I don’t—don’t care. I need you. _Please, Sir_.”

Steve arched a brow even as he enjoyed the sight of James writhing and begging in his lap. “Thought sex was off the table. Isn’t that clearly stated in the rules? And on the wall right over there?” 

“Please. I’m already—already open. Don’t—don’t care. Everyone does it. They know. Cameras off, they know. It’s up to us, to the dancers, our discretion.”

“So you do this often, then? Doesn’t seem very safe for your day job, James."

James keened as Steve twisted the plug one way and a nipple the other direction at the same time.

“No, no, not me, I swear it,” he babbled, head whipping side to side. “I don’t. I don’t. You’re the first one. That’s not—not why I’m here. Just want to dance.”

“And take my money in the meantime, of course.”

“I’m not—I didn’t—Steve _please!”_ James’s hands tugged ineffectually at Steve’s shirt. “Didn’t take the money. I’m off the clock right now. I paid for the room.” 

“That so?” Steve slid the hand tormenting James’s chest to the back of his head and pulled him in for another kiss. It wasn’t as demanding as the first one, but no less full of desire and heat, and when James reached for the waist of Steve’s pants he didn’t try to stop him. The backs of his knuckles brushed along the length of his cock as he pulled the zipper down and it was Steve’s turn to groan into James’s mouth. 

“Condoms?” The word was bitten into the smooth firmness of James’s jaw while he rocked into the hand wrapped around his cock. 

“Y—fuck. Yes. Hang on.” James untangled himself from Steve’s hold, waiting until the last possible moment to break the kiss. While he crossed the room, Steve pulled his shirt off and shoved his pants down. “Holy shit. Look at you.” James stopped just out of reach and drank in the sight of Steve’s body. _“Fuck,”_ he moaned when his eyes landed on Steve’s cock. 

James fell to his knees and replaced Steve’s hand with his own while his lips and tongue worshiped the head. 

_“James,”_ Steve sighed, threading his hand through the soft brown curls on the top of the man’s head.

“Mm-nh. Bucky,” James said before sucking one of Steve’s balls into his mouth.

“What?” Steve was torn between the desire to drop his head back and enjoy the blowjob versus watching those full lips wrap around the most intimate parts of him, and therefore couldn’t quite connect what James was saying.

“I prefer Bucky. James is my professional name. More respectful. Bucky is _me._ Bucky is Phantom. I am not James. If you want _James_ then I’m ending this now.” 

The fire in _Bucky’s_ eyes was intense, and it was _that_ spark that Steve desired, not the cold edges of _James._ Steve cupped Bucky’s chin and pulled him up, back onto his lap. 

“I want _you._ I want the man I see when I come here: the man who smiles, who laughs, who is _happy._ I want the sweet thing that brings me coffee and lunch. Not the man who wears a mask, who hides himself from the world.” As he spoke, he carefully slid the mask from Bucky’s head. “And I’ll call that man anything he wants me to.” 

Bucky made a gutted sound and his bottom lip trembled. 

“Now tell me, _Bucky_ , are you still gonna ride my cock? Or do I have to do all the work here?”

_“Steve,”_ he whispered, reaching for him with a shaky arm. “Please.” 

“Come on up here, sweet thing,” he purred, and Bucky climbed up eagerly. “You want this? Hmm?” He reached around behind Bucky and grabbed his own cock, tapping it against the base of the plug. 

“Yes. Please, Sir. Please fuck me.”

Steve groaned, the hand on Bucky’s hip tightening. “How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly? Without prompting, even?” He held his hand out for the condom, and sheathed himself as Bucky cupped his face and leaned in for a kiss. “Relax for me, sweet thing. Time to take this out,” he said, running a finger along the edge of the plug before gripping it securely. He pulled gently, only to drive it back in, fucking it into Bucky, teasing him.

Bucky squirmed, fingers digging in where he held Steve’s shoulders. _“Sir…”_ Bucky begged, drawing the name out into a high-pitched whine. Steve grinned and took pity on him, eased the plug out past the widest point and set it on the couch next to them. 

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Steve pulled the tiny strip of fabric from the g-string aside and pressed the head of his cock to Bucky’s open hole. The plug had been surprisingly big, but it would still be a tight stretch and he didn’t want to hurt Bucky.

Bucky tried to keep his eyes open, Steve could see the fight on his face. It was a fight that he lost, though, as he dropped his head back, eyes shut tight, a deep moan escaping him as he took every inch of Steve’s cock. 

_“Fuck, holy shit, ohmyfuckinggodyou’rehuge,”_ he said in a rush, and Steve laughed softly as he pressed a kiss to the exposed column of Bucky’s neck.

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

Bucky groaned as he lifted his head to look at Steve. “I thought I was being optimistic with that plug, based on what I’ve seen giving you dances, but _Jesus_ I should’ve gone bigger I think.”

Steve cupped Bucky’s jaw, ran his thumb over his swollen bottom lip, and Bucky sucked it in, held it between his teeth with a grin. Steve couldn’t help but smile back, enamored with the way Bucky glowed, a fine sheen of sweat beading on the oil covering his body, his face alight with a joy that Steve hadn’t ever seen there before.

“I can get you one,” Steve offered, and Bucky laughed as he rolled his hips cautiously. 

“Just have—have to go slow first,” he answered, breath catching. After a few more rolls, his movements grew more confident, and he rose further each time. Steve held firmly onto Bucky’s waist, and soon they were both panting with the exertion, Steve fucking up into Bucky, Bucky driving himself down onto Steve, moans and cries escaping him each time their skin slapped together. 

_“Fuck, god I_ — _shit, please, please Sir_ — _”_

“What is it, sweet thing? _Fuck,_ you feel so good. So hot and tight. Are you close, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Bucky only whimpered in reply, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pressing their foreheads together as he nodded his head.

“Want to come. So close.” 

Steve reached between them to Bucky’s cock, still trapped in the slip of fabric at the front of the g-string. The material was soaked, stretched to its limit over the hard line of Bucky’s erection. He palmed him through the fabric, giving him a source of friction to rub against. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Go ahead. Let me feel it. Give it to me.”

“Steve!” Bucky cried, his body going tense as the orgasm overtook him. Steve groaned as the tight clench of Bucky’s ass around his cock pulled him along for the ride. His arm around Bucky’s back held him close and he dropped his head to Bucky’s shoulder as his cock pulsed. 

Bucky went boneless with a happy sigh and they melted back into the couch, Bucky wrapped around Steve, doing his best impersonation of a koala. 

“Lift up, sweetheart,” Steve breathed into their kiss, and Bucky made a small noise as Steve slid his cock free. “Shh, you’re okay, honey,” he soothed, and Bucky settled in closer to him, tucking his face into Steve’s neck.

“Jesus that was amazing,” Bucky said, fingers trailing lightly through the hair between Steve’s pecs.

“Oh sweetheart, that was _nothing,”_ he purred, voice pitched low and rumbling against Bucky’s ear. Bucky made what could only be called a _squeak_ in reply, and Steve chuckled. “Do you have to go back to work?”

“God, I don’t know if I can even _walk_ let alone _dance_ right now. But no, I’m done for the night.” 

“That’s good. Because I’m not.”


	6. Chapter 6

_I've been the strong one for so long_

_But I was wrong_

_Doesn't make you weak if you're needing someone_

_I'm not holding back (yeah)_

_I know what I want_

_~”Beautiful With You” - Halestorm_

Steve and Bucky crashed through the door of Steve’s apartment. Steve had tried to downplay it, said it wasn’t much, but it was all his, bought and paid for, and that said something. Bucky had spent the ride there on Steve’s lap in the back of the Uber, but they’d had to talk about it before ordering their ride. Stark had given him an _obscene_ amount of money after the accident, and he might have felt guilty about it, except for the almost-dying bit, and the nearly-paralyzed bit, and the career-ending bit. Right now, Bucky was exceedingly grateful for that money, because that meant Steve didn’t have a roommate to consider when bringing home a guest. Especially at an ungodly hour of the night. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked between kisses. He had Bucky pinned up against the wall next to the coat rack. “Food? Shower?” They’d barely broken contact since Bucky had first touched him in that room at the club.

“Maybe—maybe a shower? I should eat, but I’m not interested in that right now.” 

Steve ground his hips against Bucky’s as he pulled his coat off. “Am I going to have to make you eat?” 

“Mmm, that could be fun. But later? I promise. I just want you right now. Please.” Bucky shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped himself around Steve. “Let me wash all this crap off and then you can take me to bed?”

Steve nuzzled under Bucky’s jaw and nipped at his neck. “Fuck I want to mark you up. You have no idea.” 

Bucky whimpered and melted against Steve. “I’m not dancing at Triskelion for another week,” he breathed, tipping his head back and exposing his neck further. Steve growled and bit down, sucking hard at a spot halfway to his shoulder.

“Mmm, better.” Steve ran a hand down Bucky’s chest. “Need more once you’re naked again.”

“We still have performances this weekend, Steve!”

In response, Steve repeated the action on the other side of his neck, and Bucky decided that it was Steve’s problem as the costume designer to hide the marks.

_“Mine,”_ he rumbled as he pulled back. Bucky’s chest heaved as he struggled to remain coherent and not go stupid just because Steve’s voice had dropped a couple of octaves. 

“Fuck, yes, yours, _Christ, Steve—_ Sir. Thank you.”

Steve smiled warmly at Bucky as he stroked a thumb along his smooth jaw. “Such a good boy.” Bucky’s cheeks flamed as he dropped his eyes. “It’s okay, sweet thing. You don’t have to hide from it with me.” He turned even redder, could feel it spreading down his neck, and he whined softly as Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Go wash up. I’ll get you some clothes to wear.”

Bucky scrubbed himself as quickly as he could while still being thorough, and it was only when he stepped out of the shower and saw the neatly folded clothes and towel awaiting him that he let himself stop for a moment and think about what was happening. Sure, they’d had sex at the club, but that had been more like blunting the need, taking the edge off of the ridiculous tension that had been building between them by finally fucking. Now, he was in Steve’s home, and he’d already slipped and called him _Sir_ a few times tonight without even thinking or being asked… He liked how calm and confident Steve was when he took control, it was hot as fuck, but he wasn’t sure just how much control he was ready to hand over. It was all fun and games when he was in a scene the few times he’d gone to a club to fill the need, but this was different. He’d see Steve again in the morning. And this weekend, at the performances. And then there was the question of who exactly Steve thought he was getting… 

Before he could spiral into a mess of anxiety, he forced himself to get dressed. He _wanted_ this. That wasn’t in question. They were adults, and they could—they _would_ —talk about this, just like any other scene negotiation. Set ground rules. Establish parameters. Bucky took a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle the butterflies in his stomach. He ignored the boxers and pulled on the softest flannel pants he’d ever felt, rolling the waist a couple of times so they’d stay up—Steve did have a few inches on him in height, after all—and tugged on the t-shirt that hung comfortably loose. 

Bucky’s time in the bathroom seemed to have had a cooling effect on Steve, as well, because he was calmly sipping some water on the couch when Bucky found him. He’d changed into more comfortable clothing also, and on the table in front of him was a plate with some fruits, cheese, and nuts.

“You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” Steve asked, looking up. “I can get something else if you do. But I thought you’d like something small at least. And you definitely need water after all the dancing.”

“No allergies, thank you.” Bucky sat, folding his legs beneath him as he faced Steve.

Steve assessed him for a moment. “Nothing else has to happen if you don’t want it to, Bucky. Hell, I’d be fine sleeping out here while you slept in the bed if that’s what you wanted.” 

Bucky smiled, appreciative of the sentiment. “Pretty sure that would be less than ideal for your back. It’s… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. That this is happening? That it’s real? That you want _me_ , not James or Phantom…” 

“I knew it was you on stage the very first night. Every inch of your body has been burned into my memory for far longer than you know. But it only took a few visits to realize that the man I saw in that club was far more real than the man who stepped into my fitting room. And it was _that_ man that I wanted to get to know. You let me have glimpses, outside the club, and that only made it worse.”

“I was starting to wonder what I had to do to get you to come out and say it. To take it to the next level.”

Steve hummed in agreement as he unfolded himself and reached for a piece of cheese. “Eat,” he said, holding the square up to Bucky’s mouth. It was a simple command, but Steve’s voice had taken on that subtle undertone he sometimes used, and Bucky sucked in a breath as they locked eyes. 

“Yes, Sir.” He opened his mouth diligently, and Steve groaned faintly as he watched the food disappear between Bucky’s lips. Steve leaned in and chased the cheese with a kiss, close-mouthed and chaste, but Bucky felt the pleasure, the approval in the soft press of skin. “Thank you, Sir,” Bucky whispered, when Steve pulled away. He didn’t go far, only enough to sit back against the couch, but he pulled Bucky with him, gentle hands on his hips, guiding him to straddle Steve’s lap.

“Don’t you get enough of this?” he teased, though he instinctively rocked his body into Steve’s.

“Never. It’s my favorite view.”

"This feels weird without music."

Steve let out a soft laugh, and _oh,_ the hunger in his eyes when he lifted his head to look at Bucky was hot.

"I want to hear what kind of music _you_ make, sweetheart," he answered, and Bucky couldn't stop the strangled sound that came from his throat at the words. He leaned in for a kiss, only to find Steve’s hand at his mouth, holding a grape. He received another small press of lips, this time to his throat, as he chewed. 

“Good boy,” Steve praised, and Bucky felt himself flush. He dragged the plate closer and grabbed something—it was a strawberry, he noted as his hand raised—and fed it to Steve. Steve’s eyebrows quirked and he grinned as he accepted the offering. Bucky copied Steve’s actions and kissed him chastely on the cheek as he swallowed. They continued taking turns, not talking, just feeding each other and giving teasing kisses as they went. Steve tugged the collar of his shirt to one side and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, his collarbone, and the top of his pec before deciding the item needed to go completely. The kisses lasted longer, grew more heated, and it wasn’t long before Bucky had one hand fisted in the back of Steve’s hair as he arched back, Steve’s mouth lavishing attention on one nipple, plate of food forgotten.

“Steve— _Sir—_ please!” 

“Need something, sweetheart?”

Bucky whimpered and ground his hips against Steve in response. They were both rock hard, Steve knew damned well what he needed. 

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Steve asked, all motions ceasing. “You can still say no.” 

“You could take me over this fucking coffee table right now and I’d still say _thank you_ for it.”

Steve threw his head back with a laugh. “I could. Hell, I’m sure I _will,_ some day. But I think you deserve something a bit nicer than that tonight. I can’t take you apart the way I’d like to right now if I bend you over right here.”

Bucky’s breath punched out of him on a hard exhale as his mouth fell open.

“Up, my good boy. I could try to carry you, but going that far wouldn’t do well for my ability to fuck you through the mattress.”

Bucky nearly fell in his scramble to get off of Steve’s lap. The way Steve so easily flipped between happy and laughing to hot and commanding amazed Bucky, overwhelmed him in the best of ways and he followed Steve down the hall, anticipation making his head spin and his cock ache.

*******

  
  


_“Fuck,”_ he gasped as teeth worried a nipple, and he arched into the firm press of Steve’s body over his. Steve had two very talented fingers buried to the knuckle inside Bucky’s ass and _how_ had Bucky never noticed just how big his hand was and how long his fingers were? He didn’t really need the prep after the plug and the sex at the club but he wasn’t going to tell Steve that he had to stop because the knowledge of how huge that cock was was fresh in his memory and he’d take the help. 

“Ah-ah-ah, hold still,” Steve reminded him, and he whined. 

“Please, god, _please Sir,_ please will you fuck me now?”

Steve teased a third finger at the edge of his rim and Bucky trembled with the fight to hold still. He squeezed his eyes tightly, heedless of the tears that escaped. 

“Beautiful,” Steve murmured, rubbing his nose along Bucky’s temple. He stopped tormenting Bucky, though, and pulled back, grabbing a condom from the top of the nightstand as he rose. He sheathed himself quickly, the only sign of just how affected he was as well, and was pressing into Bucky in a matter of seconds. The stretch was just as intense as it had been earlier, and when Steve bottomed out they swore in unison. 

“Fuck, so goddamned _big_ , feel so fucking good,” Bucky panted, hands tightening around Steve’s biceps as his head dropped back into the pillow. 

“ _Christ_ , you’re still so tight.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s been almost two years since I’ve had sex. Sorry.” 

Steve’s eyes fluttered and he dropped to one elbow, guiding Bucky’s leg around his waist as he did. “Not quite that long for me, but at least that since I had anyone steady,” he said, foreheads pressed together. Bucky slid a hand from Steve’s arm to cup his face, one thumb stroking over the soft, close-cropped beard as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Were you this much of a tease then, too? Or did you move your hips once in a while?”

Steve let out a huff of air, while his eyes darkened. “Remember what you asked for, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, that’s the plan. I want to _remember_ this every time I sit down for the next two days.” 

“That could be arranged,” he said with a snap of his hips, never breaking eye contact.

Bucky let out a startled cry, and Steve grinned wickedly as he moved with long, powerful thrusts that rocked their joined bodies up the bed until Bucky was forced to put an arm up to brace himself in order to avoid smashing his head. They kissed messily, more panting into the other’s mouth with occasional swipes of tongue than anything resembling a true kiss. 

“Steve,” he moaned, arching his back, tightening his legs around the man’s waist as he felt a familiar tension building in his core. “Close,” he managed. Steve immediately slowed his motions and ran a hand down Bucky’s side in a gentle caress. 

“Yeah? You gonna be a good boy for me and come on my cock? Hmm? Show me, sweetheart. No touching.” Steve leaned in close, bodies pressed together, as he sped his pace up once more. Between them, Bucky’s cock rubbed against Steve’s abdomen, the trail of hair there providing the right amount of teasing friction. 

“Come for me, Bucky.” Steve’s voice was a deep rumble in his ear, but Bucky could hear the strain in it. “Come _now.”_ He twisted one of Bucky’s nipples sharply as he gave the command and it was the final push. 

Bucky came with a loud cry, his release shooting hot and messy across their stomachs. Steve followed him with a harsh groan, eyes squeezed tight as he froze, cock twitching inside of Bucky. Neither moved for several moments, until Steve reached for the tissues to dispose of the condom. He didn’t go far, though. After he pulled out, he remained in the vee of Bucky’s legs as they regained their breathing with soft kisses and gentle pets. 

“Stay,” Steve breathed, a question in his voice and hope in his eyes as he brushed Bucky’s hair from his sweaty forehead.

Bucky smiled and nodded sleepily. “Yeah,” he agreed, eyes already fighting to stay open. Steve pressed a kiss to his forehead before he shifted off him and pulled him close against his side. Bucky snuggled in close, breathing in the scent of Steve and sweat and sex, boneless and sated and _happy_ for the first time in far too long.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're finally at the chapter with the art piece that prompted everything, lol! make sure you show some love to [Ribbonsflying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonsflying) for all their hard work! (art is at the end of the chapter)

_How about a better version of, the way that I am_

_How about a better version that, makes me understand_

_How about a better version of, the way that I am_

_The way I look, The way I speak,_

_How about a better version of me_

_~ “Better Version” by Shinedown_

Steve woke to the feeling of soft caresses along his back, tracing parallel to his scar but not actually touching it. He opened his eyes slowly, an easy smile on his face as he turned his head to the side and looked up at Bucky. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked Steve in a hushed voice. 

“Mostly when it’s really cold. Sometimes a little sore in the morning until I stretch and do my yoga.”

“Explains why it’s a sauna in here. Why did you move to New York, then?” 

Steve chuckled. “I ask myself that at least a few times every winter.”

Bucky grinned and leaned over to press kisses along Steve’s spine, drawing a pleased hum from him. 

“I came for the usual reason.”

“Job?”

“Love. Except he and I had different definitions of that word. I loved him. And he… Well, he loved _everyone_. I found that one out too late though. I _stayed_ for the job.”

Bucky hummed contemplatively before he spoke again. “What do you like for breakfast? I can make something while you get moving,” he asked, trailing kisses along his shoulder.

“Mmm, better be careful or I’m going to have _you_ for breakfast.” Steve could feel Bucky’s hard-on pressing against his hip, and his own cock was quickly getting on board with the notion. 

“Wouldn’t want to risk hurting you. Besides, I don’t have magical healing abilities. If we have sex again this morning, I don’t know how I’ll be for dress rehearsal this afternoon.”

Steve’s eyes flew open and he turned to face Bucky. “Did I hurt you? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“No, no, no, you didn’t hurt me, shhh, it’s okay.” Bucky was quick to dispel Steve’s worry, shifting in close and kissing him as he wrapped his body around Steve’s. “But you’re not exactly small, baby. You’re bigger than my toys. And I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t had sex in two years. While I’d happily fuck you for a third time in less than twelve hours, I probably shouldn’t. Not when I have to dance today.” He gently pushed Steve onto his back and straddled his hips, slotting their cocks together and taking them both in hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little more fun, though.” 

Steve grinned and tucked his arms under his head. “Giving me another free show, sweetheart?” he asked with a cock of an eyebrow. 

Bucky laughed as he reached for the lube. “You get the _best_ shows, don’t you worry.” He rocked up into his fist, sliding their cocks together with a lewd squelch. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Steve groaned as he watched Bucky’s arm slide across his chest and tweak his own nipples with a smirk on his lips. He pulled his arms out and slid his hands along Bucky’s thighs, feeling the rock hard muscles move as he rutted against Steve. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Steve wrapped a hand over Bucky’s, increasing the pressure on their cocks. With his other hand he pulled Bucky down, capturing those full lips in a heated kiss, morning breath be damned. 

Bucky melted as Steve took over, giving in to him sweet and easy as anything, while Steve thrust up into their combined hold. 

“Not yet,” Steve said, when Bucky began to make soft, high-pitched noises. His eyes squeezed closed as he whimpered. 

“ _Steve_ ,” he begged, drawing his name out.

“What do you say?”

_“Fuck,_ I—. Please. _Please,_ Sir, may I come?”

Steve groaned. “So fucking perfect. Such a good boy. Go ahead, sweetheart. Come for me.”

Bucky was spilling over their hands before he’d even finished speaking, and a handful of thrusts later Steve followed him. 

****

An hour later, Steve had done his morning stretches—made minimally more painful due to the exertions of the night and morning—and taken his shower. He padded softly into the kitchen, tugging a thermal knit henley over his head as he went. Bucky was at the stove, cracking eggs into a pan. He already had bacon and sausages cooked, and fruit sliced into a bowl, having taken his own shower before Steve.

“Mmm, I like you in the mornings. Remind me to move all your appointments to nine a.m..” 

Bucky laughed softly as Steve wrapped himself around Bucky from behind and pressed a kiss just beneath his ear, but Steve felt the tension in his body regardless.

“We should probably talk about that,” Bucky said quietly.

“If you feel the need to talk about something then we absolutely will, sweetheart.” 

Steve waited, but Bucky simply stood there, staring at the eggs. 

“Bucky,” he started, stepping away and crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “I’m not going to drag this out of you. You’re a grown man. You brought this up. So speak.” 

Bucky took a deep breath and spoke into the pan, still not looking at Steve. “You know it could ruin my career if it got out that I… was dancing there. Like that.”

“I kind of assumed that was the reason for the mask and the shtick with _Phantom_. And obviously I’ve kept your secret for this long.” Steve ground his jaw, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything further without giving Bucky a chance to elaborate. He really wanted to believe that Bucky was _not_ implying that Steve would somehow undermine him, ruin him after the night they’d shared. 

Bucky glanced over at him and instantly shrank away, pulling the pan of eggs with him and plating them. 

“That’s not—I’m not saying that you won’t keep the secret. I know now that you’ve known all along and didn’t say anything. It’s just, nobody at the ballet knows about my other job. _Nobody._ Not even Wanda. And nobody there calls me Bucky. So, uh, I guess what I’m saying is, we need to pretend still, like—”

Whatever Bucky had been about to say, Steve cut him off. “If last night was a one night stand and nothing more to you, then fine, we can pretend like nothing happened. But if that’s all it was, you wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen, in my clothes, making me breakfast. Now would you?” 

“No, Sir,” Bucky whispered, head down and staring at the floor after Steve crossed the room and stood over him.

“Sweetheart, no. That’s not what this is right now.” Steve forcibly relaxed his body and cradled Bucky’s face in his hands, tipping it up so he could meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across like that.” Steve kissed him gently and dropped his hands to hold Bucky’s ass as he lifted him with a grimace. 

“Steve!” Bucky cried as Steve set him on the counter. “Are you crazy? I’m too heavy—”

“Hush, my good boy.”

A rush of satisfaction ran through Steve as he watched Bucky flush. He never failed to get flustered when Steve called him a good boy, and Steve didn’t think he could ever get tired of watching the reaction. 

“If you want me to continue to call you James, I will. I can promise to do my best to not call you sweetheart. It would kill me to pretend like you’re not mine at work, if that’s what you want… But whatever this thing is between us has been building for far too long. Please don’t ask me to ignore you completely when we’re in that building together. I can’t do that.”

“Oh god,” Bucky cried, relief flooding his face as he threw his arms around Steve’s neck and buried his face against his shoulder. “God, I thought, I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with me like that, because of who I am there, and nobody _really_ likes me, and—” 

“Shh, Bucky, sweetheart, no. I am not ashamed to be seen with you. I am okay with whatever level of openness you want us to have at work. You might call me Sir when we’re together, but I would never jeopardize your work. I know how important it is to you.”

Bucky pulled back, his bottom lip between his teeth, looking nervous again.

“What is it?”

“What about the club? That’s just as important to me.”

“What about it?”

“I’m not going to stop dancing there. I have a real chance at continuing to dance for several more years there once I’m done with ballet. Dance is all I know. I’m not going to stop. Not for anybody.”

“Mmm, nope. Don’t want you to stop there, either. Why would I want that?”

“Uh, because _stripping?”_ Bucky answered.

“You gonna go home with any of those customers?”

“Huh?”

“Are. You. Going. To. Fuck. Any. Of. Them?” Steve spoke slowly and clearly, and perhaps a bit condescendingly, but he wanted Bucky to understand him, to know that Steve already knew the answer and trusted Bucky.

“I mean… no?” It came out as a question, Bucky seemingly confused as to _why_ Steve had asked the question, not that he was unsure of his answer. “You’re the only one I ever considered sleeping with, but honestly I wanted you long before the first night you came to the club.”

“So why would I have a problem with it?”

“Well, other people would be seeing me…”

“Sweetheart. You know that the majority of your ballet costumes leave absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination, right? And besides,” he said, pressing in closer to Bucky, running his hands up underneath the edge of his shirt. “Maybe I like the idea of all those people getting hot looking at you and knowing that you’ll be coming home to me.”

“This is a dream, right? You’re not real. There’s no way. Guys like you don’t exist.”

“Guys like what, sweetheart?” 

Bucky flushed again, and _god_ it was a hell of a look on him. 

“Tell me, my good boy.”

His cheeks turned crimson and Bucky dropped his head. “Like that,” he mumbled. “Any partner I’ve ever been with, who I’ve… uh, _submitted_ to, let them see that side of me… well, they wanted more than I was willing to give. And tried to extend it to other parts of my life…” 

“I’m not going to do that to you. I’m not. Hey, look at me.”

Bucky lifted his head, and Steve saw that he was fighting tears. 

“That’s not a partner. That’s someone abusing the trust you’re giving them, and having their own control issues, if they’re ignoring your wishes.”

With a shaky breath, Bucky sniffed and wiped at his tears, pressing his lips together firmly as he looked around the kitchen.

“Your breakfast is cold,” he said, obviously deflecting and redirecting.

“We’ll make more.”

“That was the last of your eggs.”

Steve shrugged and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Then I’ll take you to the diner down the street.”

Bucky dropped his head back down to Steve’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Steve. They remained like that for several moments as Bucky got himself under control. Steve waited, didn’t push Bucky. It had clearly been a long time since he’d had a decent partner—if he’d ever had one to begin with.

“It’s terrifying, how comfortable and relaxed and free I feel around you,” he finally said, tightening his hold on Steve. “How _right_ this feels.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who feels it.”

Bucky made a small noise and attempted to burrow further into Steve. It ignited something fierce inside of Steve, activated every instinct he had to _protect,_ to be Bucky’s rock, his safe place, his _home._

Bucky wasn’t the only one terrified by the strength of their feelings and their connection already.

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  


In the end, they made their way to the diner and settled into a booth, where the conversation flowed freely and Bucky’s smile felt like a permanent fixture. They talked about their families—Steve had none, Bucky told him about his four sisters—and their dance history, Steve’s accident and career change and Bucky’s fear of not knowing what to do if he couldn’t dance. Steve listened quietly, a thoughtful look on his face, and Bucky knew that particular topic would be revisited in the future. 

Bucky caught a few curious glances as they entered the studio together. He followed Steve to wardrobe, and hung out with him there until it was time to get ready for rehearsal. More than one person shot a confused look at Bucky doing his stretches off to the side of the room, where he was watching the flurry of activity as the design team sorted out last-minute issues.

“You planning on getting dressed any time soon, sw—James?” Steve asked, a bemused grin on his face as he looked over from the rack of tutus he was double-checking for the younger girls before it was sent to their dressing room.

“I think there might be an issue with my costume,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his neck and drawing attention to the marks Steve had left there. “Wanted to wait until I had your undivided attention so you could help me.” 

Steve’s chuckle bubbled out, and he glanced at Maria’s retreating back before he spoke again. “What kind of issue would that be? It’s a bit last-minute to demand changes, _James_.”

Bucky stood and made his way over to stand right in Steve’s space. “Well, you see, I have a new acquaintance. And he was a bit… _overzealous…_ in showing his affection last night.” 

“Was he, now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Bucky nodded solemnly. 

“Maybe someone should have a chat with this _acquaintance,_ then.”

“I did try to warn him. He didn’t seem to be concerned, though. Want to know a secret?” Bucky ran his hands up over Steve’s chest and settled on his biceps as he tipped his face up to meet Steve’s, now merely inches from his own.

“What’s that?”

“I kinda liked it,” he said, closing the distance. Steve growled once, low and short, as his arms circled Bucky and he took control of the kiss.

“Holy shit,” a voice exclaimed from the doorway, startling them apart. “Well. That’s… unexpected.” 

Bucky bit his bottom lip as he looked up at Steve. He was watching Bucky, one eyebrow slightly raised. He remembered what Steve had told him that morning in the kitchen, about following his lead at work, and realized that he’d actually meant it. He was waiting to see what Bucky would say. 

“Yeah… It’s still pretty new, but…” He tore his gaze away from Steve, who was fighting a laugh, to look at Wanda, where she was frozen in the doorway. “It’s a thing.” He leaned into Steve and felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead with a whispered _‘thank you.’_

“Go get changed. Let me make sure everything looks okay.” Steve patted Bucky’s side and tipped his head towards the rack where the lead costumes were hanging. 

The results of Steve’s markings meant that he needed to add a short collar to the neckline of Bucky’s tunic beneath his jacket, and Bucky couldn’t help but smirk up at Steve the entire time that he worked. 

“I’m just going to tack this on for now and I’ll sew it in place after rehearsal is done. Hold still so I don’t stab you.” 

“Mmm, I think you did enough of that last night. People might get scandalized if you did that here, too.”

Steve choked on a laugh, and had to pull his hands away from Bucky’s neck before he got himself under control. Bucky shook with silent laughter as he remained standing in place.

“Stop it,” Steve admonished, still laughing.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m just standing here!” he protested.

“Oh my god, you are _giggling!_ Yasha, why have you not gotten a boyfriend sooner?” Wanda emerged from behind the changing screen in her tutu, grinning from ear to ear. 

“One of us was too busy being stubborn. The other one… well, the other one was busy enjoying the game.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, who simply grinned and resumed working. 

Hours later, after rehearsal had finished and Bucky was back in the clothes he’d borrowed from Steve, he found himself curled up on the couch in the wardrobe room, watching Steve work through heavy eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart. Why don’t you head on home? Get some rest for tomorrow.” Somehow, between one blink and the next, Steve had crossed the room to squat next to Bucky. “I’ll be a little bit longer here. Go eat something and head on to bed.”

“Yessir,” Bucky said with a yawn, and the smile he received in return twisted his belly in the best of ways. 

“Good boy,” Steve murmured and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Bucky had never had a partner who did that, at least not with the frequency that Steve seemed to favor them, and he decided that he definitely liked it. He hummed and leaned into the touch, soaking up the attention. 

“I ordered you a ride. I hope you don’t mind that I used your phone, but I remembered from last night that you had the app installed already, so I went ahead so I wouldn’t have to wake you to get your address.”

Bucky scrunched up his face. “I probably should care? But I’m either too tired or like the thoughtfulness too much to worry about it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Noted,” Steve said with a grin, and held his hand out as he stood. Bucky let himself be pulled up and into Steve’s arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

  
  


°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°

  
  


Steve smiled softly to himself as he stood just inside the theatre doors, watching from the back of the room. Bucky, Natalia, Wanda, and Peter spun and leapt, lifted and soared across the stage. He’d watched the last few rehearsals to make sure the costumes were behaving properly, and the tension that had been holding Bucky tight was nowhere to be found tonight. In fact, it was probably the best opening night that he’d had in years. Every bit of emotion was clearly conveyed, the tragic love story coming through loud and clear in both his expressions and his movements. Hell, if he didn’t know better firsthand, he’d think that there was _real_ chemistry between Bucky and Natalia off-stage. 

The fire and passion that drove Bucky had returned in full force.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone wondering why I tagged Clint and Nat, we're finally getting around to them, lol. I just...I couldn't help myself. Clint is a Good Bro, lol.

_What you don't know_

_What you can't see_

_Is what I do for you_

_I do for me_

_~“I Get Off” by Halestorm_

Bucky threw himself into Steve’s arms as soon as the final curtain call was completed. 

“You did amazing, sweetheart,” he breathed into Bucky’s ear, and Bucky didn’t give a second thought to turning his face into Steve’s to catch the kiss that had been aimed for his cheek. A part of Bucky’s brain was yelling at him for ‘too much, too fast’ and that he was being far too open with this fledgeling relationship, but he didn’t care when he felt the smile on Steve’s lips and heard the low sound of pleasure coming from his chest. He’d never done anything by halves, after all. 

“Go collect your accolades, honey. You know where to find me later.” Steve pressed a kiss to his forehead and cupped his cheeks a moment before releasing him. The pride and adoration in his gaze sent warmth flooding through Bucky even as he turned away to join the throng of people waiting to have his picture.

Of course, their interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he spent the next hour redirecting questions back around to Natalia’s performance, which had been flawless. From the corner of his eye, he caught Steve answering questions, standing between Natalia and Wanda, pointing out elements of their tutus, before he managed to sneak away, presumably headed back to the wardrobe room.

“James, well done tonight!” Natalia beamed at him—the first true smile he’d seen from her directed his way since her arrival in the fall—as they finally headed for the dressing rooms. “Thank you for finding your spark again. It would have been quite disappointing to have terrible reviews because of your mediocre performance.” 

Bucky grimaced. Perhaps even just a few days ago he’d have lost his temper, yelled at her or stormed off in a fit. But she wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Well, the dancing would have been good. The rest of it, though…” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, letting the rest remain unspoken.

“Whatever the cause, I am pleased. Tonight, you danced the way I’d hoped for when I signed on for the season.”

Bucky watched her as she swished away and left him standing in the hallway alone. It wasn’t difficult for him to figure out what had made the difference. He’d let someone in—or, more likely, Steve had slowly slipped in through a crack in the wall—and he felt _alive_ again, felt seen and known without being found lacking. 

When Bucky finally rejoined Steve, his body still thrummed with a post-performance electricity that had disappeared long ago from this part of his life. It was the high of dancing for joy, of dancing for the enjoyment of it, not rote mechanics. It was the way he felt after his nights at the club. It was the way he _used_ to feel after a major ballet performance.

It _almost_ matched the way he felt when he saw Steve, those piercing blue eyes lighting with pleasure when they landed on Bucky.

Fuck, he’d fallen hard and fast.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve greeted him, and seemed slightly caught off-guard when Bucky went right in for a deep kiss. 

“Come home with me,” Bucky said, breathless, as he cupped Steve’s ass, pulling their bodies tight. “My roommate is a bit messy, but my place is closer.”

“You sure you want him to hear me make you beg and scream?” Steve’s tongue trailed along the shell of Bucky’s ear, and he couldn’t help but moan.

“He’s deaf,” Bucky panted, squirming in Steve’s hold. “He’ll take his hearing aids out.”

“Jesus.” Hot air puffed over his cheek as Steve let out an amused chuckle. “This is why people think you’re a jerk, honey.”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s an asshole. I’m really not being mean.”

*****

“Hey, asshole! I’m home!” Bucky yelled as they came in the door. Bucky’s roommate raised an arm from where he sat on the couch and waved, not turning his head from the tv and the game he was playing.

“Bucky,” Steve chided softly.

“What?”

“That’s not very nice.”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, he knows I don’t _actually_ think he’s an asshole. Right, Clint?”

“Ehhh…” Clint said, scrunching up his face. “I kind of _am_ an asshole, though?” 

“Well… Yeah, you kind of are. But you’re my favorite asshole,” Bucky said, ruffling Clint’s already messy hair.

“Fuck off, dickface.” Clint swatted blindly at Bucky’s hand. 

“You might wanna take these out.” Bucky flicked at one of Clint’s ears as he started to turn toward what Steve assumed was his room.

“Why, you got plans with your left hand tonight? Got some new toys to celebrate opening night?”

_“Clint!_ Read your fucking texts! I told you I was bringing home a friend.”

“Yeah, so?” Clint finally tore his attention from the screen to crane his head around and look at them. “You only have one friend, Wanda’s bro— _oh_. Oh shit. You are not Wanda’s brother. You are not a _friend._ You are a fucking _hottie_. You are—oh my _god_ , is this Steve?”

Steve’s brows raised in a silent question, amused, as he watched the exchange. 

“Yes, this is Steve. And he’s gonna go plow me through my mattress, so… ditch the ears, bro. Unless you wanna listen in and get off on that.”

“Christ, and you call _me_ an asshole,” Clint grumbled as he turned back around, reaching for his ears.

*****

_“Fuck fuck fuck please!”_ Bucky begged, and Steve grinned. He pumped his hips, hands firmly on Bucky’s waist, holding him in place as Steve fucked down into him. Bucky squirmed, his hands clenching spasmodically at the sheets, face alternately buried in the pillow to muffle his sounds and turned to the side so he could gasp for air and plea for relief. His spent cock was trapped beneath him, rubbing against the sheets and through the mess of his earlier release while Steve tormented his prostate, chasing his own orgasm. 

_“Steve!”_ Bucky shuddered beneath him, a high-pitched keen drawing out his name, while his ass clamped down around Steve. 

_“Fuck,”_ Steve groaned, thrusting through the tight heat until he stilled, flush against the firm globes of Bucky’s ass. The pulses of Bucky’s body milked him through his release and Steve let his hands slide from Bucky’s hips to the bed. The loss of pressure brought their bodies closer together and Bucky hissed as Steve shifted within him and pulled out. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Such a good boy, waiting for me to finish even though you were overwhelmed.” Bucky’s sweaty cheek heated further beneath Steve’s lips. 

“Thank you, Sir,” he hummed, and Steve’s heart twisted a little more in his chest. He liked Bucky far more than was reasonable in such a short amount of time. 

“Know what I want, sweetheart? Since I can’t mark you up the way I normally would?”

“Hmm, what?” Bucky asked, and Steve could already hear the sleep creeping into his voice. 

“Want to go get tested together. So I can watch myself leaking out when I’m done with you. Send you off to the club with a plug in your ass, knowing I’m all tucked up inside you all night while everyone is looking at you. Want to know you’re _mine_ ,” he finished, with a bite to the top of Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky whined and squirmed, his ass pressing back against Steve. 

“Oh, you like that idea, hmm? Want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Want me dripping out of you, claiming you? You ever let anyone do that? I bet not. But you'd let me, wouldn't you, my good boy?"

Bucky made a small noise and squeezed his eyes tight, burying his face as he nodded his head.

“Ah-ah,” Steve tutted. “Words, honey. Remember?” He took some of his weight off of Bucky and gently encouraged him to roll over. 

“Yes,” Bucky breathed, looking shyly up at Steve through his lashes. “Yes, I want that.”

_“Christ,”_ Steve groaned as he claimed Bucky’s mouth. “Why did it take us so long?”

Bucky grinned up at him and rocked his hips. “Just going to have to make up for lost time, baby.” 

°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°○°  
  
  


_‘Why do you put up with him?’_ Steve signed to Clint one night several months later. Clint had been delighted to discover that Steve knew ASL, and it drove Bucky nuts when they ‘talked’ without him—because he knew that most of the time, that meant they were talking _about_ him.

Clint laughed as he glanced at the stage. _‘He doesn’t touch my pizza? And he makes the best coffee.’_

_‘That is true. He makes excellent coffee.’_

_‘Unfortunately, I don’t get much of it anymore since you stole him away.’_

Steve laughed and looked to the stage once more. Bucky’s set was due to start soon, and that would be Clint’s excuse to leave—he said watching him do ballet was one thing, but this was different. They’d eventually explained the truth of how they’d gotten together to Clint, and to their surprise, Clint had asked to join Steve on his next trip to the club. He wasn’t interested in Bucky, but he _was_ interested in ending his dry spell, and somehow thought that he’d find someone at the club. It seemed to be working, though, and Steve remained quiet about it if Clint spent more time at the bar talking to Phil than he did keeping Steve company. 

“I guess I should start looking for another roommate, now,” Clint said aloud, and Steve’s heart made an all-to-familiar jump in his chest.

“Why is that?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

Clint shrugged. “The lease is up in a couple months and you two seem pretty… _intense_. Figured he’d be moving in with you. He spends most nights there as it is.”

Steve took a drink to cover his surprise. “We haven’t really talked about it.” 

They hadn’t talked about it _at all,_ and Steve tried to ignore how much the idea appealed to him, how much it already felt like they lived together. He glanced down at his phone when it buzzed with a message, happy for the distraction. 

_You’re here, right?_

Steve grinned and snapped a picture of the stage and sent it to Bucky.

_As promised, sweetheart._

The reply was a string of smiling emojis, and Steve chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. He thumbed back over to the article he’d never finished reading earlier as Clint disappeared from the booth. 

> _[...] In an unanticipated turn of events, last night’s final showing of the season from the NYC Ballet had a surprise announcement at the start: it was the final performance from James Barnes as their premier. Barnes, whose efforts have been lackluster over the last season and for most of this season, has given perhaps the best shows of his career in the past two months, displaying every bit of nuanced emotion and depth in his partnership with visiting ballerina Natalia Romanova. Prior to the performance, Barnes gave a resounding endorsement of Peter Parker, who has been rumored to be next in line as the premier, though no official announcement has been made from Alexander Pierce, head of the company. Barnes indicated that he intends to stay on with the company as a member of the corps dancers, and hopes to one day teach or mentor the younger members [...]_

The lights went down and Bucky’s music started. Steve shifted his attention back to the stage. 

_*You don’t know that I know,_

_You watch me every night._

_And just can’t resist the urge_

_To stand here in the light.*_

Bucky worked the crowd as he always did, gyrating and swaying his hips, hands running over his body, drawing the attention where he wanted it.

_*And I could close the curtains,_

_But this is too much fun…*_

Steve couldn’t help the smirk on his face. Bucky had told him he had a new routine for the night, and had been adamant that Steve be there. Clearly, this was intended for him. He shifted on the seat, spread his legs wide and slid one hand high up on his thigh as Bucky’s gaze locked onto Steve.

_*I get off on you_

_Getting off on me…*_

Steve threw his head back with a laugh, and caught the twitch of Bucky’s lips as he fought his own grin. 

Bucky finished his set and disappeared backstage, only to reappear among the tables. He worked the floor like normal, flirting and performing lap dances, all the while shooting glances at Steve. It was when Peggy announced last call that Bucky finally made his way to Steve’s booth. Clint had long ago gone home, leaving Steve to wait for Bucky to finish his night. 

“Hey baby,” Bucky said, climbing onto his lap.

“Hey there, sweet thing. Someone is feeling some type of way tonight, huh?” 

Bucky grinned and dragged his teeth across his bottom lip as he rubbed along Steve’s body. “Mm-hmm. ‘Cept you can’t do nothing about it right now.”

Steve groaned and dropped his head back. “Fuck, where is the end of this damned song?” The laugh that came from Bucky sent a thrill of warmth through Steve, even as his cock hardened more within the confines of his pants. “Sounds like someone needs to be reminded who he belongs to,” he growled, tightening his grip on the back of the couch. 

“Sounds like it could be fun.”

He brought just one arm down and grabbed a handful of Bucky’s ass. “This better be clean and ready for me when you walk out that door.” He squeezed tight, the way he knew Bucky liked it, and was rewarded with a whimper and Bucky burying his face into Steve’s neck.

“Yes, Sir,” he breathed, dragging his cheek along Steve’s beard.

“Go, sweet thing,” Steve forced out. “Before I get us into trouble.”

*****

Bucky cried out as Steve’s teeth sank into his chest. They both had the next two weeks off, and he’d been angling for just such a display of possession with all his teasing of Steve that night, knowing he had time for the marks to fade before he danced again. “Fuck, yes, thank you, Sir!”

“I should give you one for every dance you made me wait. Coming to me _last_ instead of _first_.”

He wiggled and squirmed, trapped as he was by Steve’s weight, arms pinned next to his head by large hands on his wrists. Steve snapped his hips, one quick, hard thrust to remind him to stay still. Bucky’s cock twitched where it was trapped between them. 

“Careful, sweet thing. I’m in half a mood to tie you down tonight.”

He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped at the thought. Steve purred as he grinned down at him. 

“We haven’t had that conversation yet, sweetheart. Maybe next time.” 

For all Steve’s talk, the energy between them was different tonight, charged and thick with emotion, the both of them dancing around something unspoken but tangible. 

“What’s the other half of your mood want?” he asked, before he could think better of it.

Steve eyed him a moment before nuzzling along the shell of his ear and pressing a soft kiss to the spot just below it that never failed to send a delicious shiver through Bucky.

“The other half of me wants to make love to you until we both pass out, you full of me and me covered with you.” 

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he froze.

“St—Steve?” he stuttered, not even sure what he was questioning about that statement. 

“Yes, sweet thing?”

“I… Can—can we do the second one?” he whispered, eyes locked on the ceiling, afraid to look at Steve and acknowledge what they weren’t outright saying. Steve shifted his hold, dropped down to his elbows and caged Bucky in further. One hand went into his hair, feather-light caresses meant to soothe. His other hand gently cupped Bucky’s cheek and turned him until he couldn’t avoid looking at Steve. 

“Is that what you want? What you need from me tonight?”

“I just need you,” he choked out. “Just want you. I—,” Bucky took a deep breath, steadied his voice and his resolve. “I love you, Steve. I know most people would think it’s too soon to say it, but I know that’s how I feel.” 

Steve’s smile was soft, and his eyes tender as he stroked a thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone. “I’ve been fighting to keep myself from telling you that I love you since our second night together. Figured it would probably scare you off if I told you that so early.” 

“I probably would have thought you were crazy for saying it, yeah. Not sure I would have run, though.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully and closed the scant distance between them. The kiss was soft, as gentle as the roll of his hips, and Bucky clutched desperately at Steve with one hand at the back of his head and the other wrapped around his shoulders. “Tell me,” he begged. 

“I love you.” Steve’s breath whispered across his lips and Bucky whimpered, a small strangled noise that got stuck in his throat as he kneaded reflexively at Steve’s shoulder. “I love you,” he repeated, and Bucky felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye as their bodies slowly rocked together in long, unhurried strokes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told someone he loved them, and was sure it was as long or longer since he’d been on the receiving end of those words and actually believed them. “Bucky?” Steve asked, swiping away the tears with his thumb.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he managed. “Promise. It’s just…”

“Been a while since you let your walls down and let anyone in?”

“Yeah,” he answered, voice shaky again as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. “Fuck, I love you so much. Don’t stop. Please.” He tipped his chin up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. Steve returned the kiss, and seemed to understand everything Bucky was struggling to say.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Steve repeated the words over and over, between kisses to every part of his face and neck, as Bucky clung to him, silent tears running free. He lost all sense of time, had no idea how long they spent trading sweet kisses while Steve carefully tended to the last of the neglected parts of Bucky’s heart, until he felt like it might burst from joy. His orgasm caught him by surprise and he came with a gasp, covering the hand that Steve had slipped between them at some point. Steve stilled not long after that, and they spent several moments in silence, foreheads pressed together and sharing the same air. 

Eventually, Steve reached for the wipes on the nightstand and cleaned them up enough for sleeping. Bucky shivered as Steve kissed his way back up his body, and he held him tight, pulled his weight back down on top of him and deepened the kiss when Steve tried to keep it chaste. 

“So, I know this is kinda fast—” Bucky started, and Steve laughed, pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead as he continued, “—but my lease is up in a couple months and… I was wondering—if you wanted—if you might want to, uh, find a place together?”

“Clint may have mentioned something about that. I’m glad you brought it up so I didn’t have to.”

“Jesus he’s an ass.”

“No, he’s being realistic. He needs to know if he should be looking for a roommate or not.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment and chewed his bottom lip as he studied Steve’s face. Everything about their situation and their relationship was crazy, had escalated quickly once they’d finally stopped fighting their attraction to each other. Yet their connection was undeniable, and he’d never once felt as comfortable with a partner as he did with Steve. It may have only been a few months in, but Bucky knew this one would be for the long haul.

“And what about you? Would you like a roommate?” he asked. 

“Sweetheart, you can move in tomorrow if you’d like.”

~end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! feel free to come yell at me (or just leave a nice note!) on tumblr!  
> <https://hanitrash.tumblr.com/>


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